Thankfully, before I’m forced to respond, the waiter returns with our wine, handing the corks to me and filling our glasses. Gia takes a delicate sip of her pinot grigio, declaring it perfect, and we put in an order for appetizers—baked oysters and truffled steak tartare on toast.
Small talk comes easily with Gia, despite my reservations. I ask her about the orchestra, about how often she’s traveled and had occasion to use the French, German, and Japanese that shespeaks, and where she volunteers. Similarly, Gia asks about my plans for taking over for De Luca, but I notice she’s careful never to ask too much, to dig too deeply into my business. She doesn’t have opinions about business, or finances, or politics, and it’s clear that she’s been taughtnotto have an opinion about those things. Those are my domain, and she’s happy to talk about how her mother has taught her all about wine pairings and party planning, how she knows the ins and outs of every crime family in the city, and can be helpful in directing me to what subjects to bring up at dinner parties and galas.
She understands this world, and her place in it—the place she was taught to have, anyway. She’s elegant and cultured and well-read. Pleasant enough to talk to and stunning to look at. Clearly willing to learn to please me in the bedroom and open to accepting her own pleasure as well, but still a virgin.
She should be perfect.
She would be perfect if I could stop thinking about the way Annie's nose crinkles when she laughs. If I could stop remembering the sound of her voice over a similar dinner last weekend. If I could stop wondering what she's doing tonight, who she's with, whether she ever thinks about me the way I think about her.
"You seem distracted," Gia observes as our appetizers arrive. "Second thoughts about the ‘audition’?" She says the last with a humorous lilt to her voice, as if it’s already an inside joke between us, but I’m having trouble finding the humor in it.
"Not at all. I apologize—it's been a long week."
"The transition must be difficult. Taking over for someone like Rocco De Luca..." She lets the sentence hang, giving me space to elaborate if I choose. It’s clear that she’s carefully not saying whether she liked or disliked Rocco personally so that she can take whichever side I fall on.
It’s wise for a woman in her position. It also makes me like her less.
“Rocco’s father was a good, strong leader. His son made so many missteps that he died on his knees in a hotel room.” My jaw tightens. “I have a lot of messes to clean up. A lot of things to make clear that I don’t condone. And a lot of changes to make.”
"You have Mr. O'Malley's support, which counts for a great deal in this city." She smiles. “That must make it easier.”
“Not ‘Ronan’?” I glance at her as I scoop an oyster from its shell. The scent of baked cheese and herbs fills the air. “I’m ashamed to say that I don’t remember you as well as I should, but I know you spent time around the family when we were all younger.”
“I thought I should be more formal, considering the circumstances. But yes.” Gia looks at me keenly, a small bit of toast with steak and yolk on her fork. “I remember you. Quite well, actually. I had a bit of a crush on you when we were children.”
I nearly choke on my oyster. “You did?” I manage after swallowing both the oyster and a sip of wine. “I’m afraid I wasn’t aware of that.”
She lets out a sound that’s close to a girlish giggle. “Well, I did a good job of hiding it, of course,” she says conspiratorially, a smile on her lips as she reaches for her wine. “And of course, you were too busy staring at Ronan’s sister.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. "His sister?"
“Yes.” Her gaze sharpens slightly. “Annie. She’s grown up to be so beautiful, really, even if she has taken an… unconventional path with her life. Of course, she’s quite off-limits to anyone who values their skin. I’m astonished neither her father nor Ronan married her off, but who knows?” She shrugs. “Maybe no one has been good enough for her, as far as they’re concerned.”
The bite of steak that I just took turns to ash in my mouth.Not good enough.Of course not. I’ve known all my life that I’d never be good enough for Annie, but hearing it aloud cuts differently. Especially coming from the lovely mouth of the woman I’m on a date with currently.
"I wouldn't know,” I say flatly. “I handle business matters with Ronan, not family matters."
Gia's smile is knowing. "Of course. Though I imagine it must be difficult, working so closely with the family. Seeing her regularly. Especially given your… history."
I swallow a gulp of wine.Fuck.How much does she know? How much did she see, back then? How much does anyone know about what Annie and I were to each other back then, or suspect?” "I'm not sure what you mean."
Gia rolls her eyes playfully, clearly not grasping that this is a line of conversation I have no interest in continuing to go down. “Oh, please.. Everyone knows there was… speculation about you and the youngest O'Malley daughter. Before you left for Chicago, of course."
Speculation.I never heard any of that. But maybe that’s why Padraigh was so quick to find me a place in Chicago. So quick to put distance between me and the rest of the family.
He didn’tknowanything. Neither did Ronan. If Padraigh had, I’d have been dead instead of shipped off to Chicago, and if Ronan knew, I’d never have been invited back. But maybe there was suspicion… of desire, at least, if nothing else.
I set down my fork, meeting her gaze directly. "If you have something to say, Gia, say it."
"I'm simply observing that it must be challenging to focus on building a new life when the past keeps... intruding." She takes a sip of wine, her expression carefully neutral. "A wife could help with that. Provide focus. Clarity."
She's not wrong. A wife would provide exactly the kind of stability and respectability Ronan wants to see from me. A wife would give me something else to think about besides the way Annie's breast brushed against my arm in a meeting, the way her breath hitched when I leaned close to her at dinner. A wife would be a barrier between me and the temptation that threatens to destroy everything I've worked for.
A wife would be a sexual outlet. One that I would be honor-bound to remain faithful to, even if it killed me, because I have no interest in cheating on a woman I’ve made vows to, whether I love her or not. Gia should have no worries in that regard.
Most men would kill to have the opportunity to fuck a woman like her, to marry her, to be the one and only that she belonged to. And I’m sitting here, dreading the thought of taking her to my bed instead of Annie.
I need to get my fucking head on straight.
